Chapter V: Catching Up

"So what did I miss?"

Gaius's expression was one of eternal suffering. Merlin's cheeky grin faded. "All right, I noticed some odd activity on the way through the city, but since nothing seems to have burned to the ground, it can't possibly be as bad as you're making it seem."

Gaius raised his eyebrow. "You are never allowed to leave Camelot ever again."

"…What did Arthur do?"

"This actually wasn't Arthur's fault."

"That's excellent." Merlin paused, thought. "Wait. What exactly is 'this'?"

The physician groaned. "Those laborers Uther hired to excavate the tunnels found the tomb of Cornelius Sigan, whose spirit escaped by possessing the replacement for Arthur's replacement manservant, who apparently was really a thief. Arthur killed the host, but we think that Sigan's spirit escaped. Also, the king discovered that his weapons vault was practically empty and that Kilgharrah has escaped."

Merlin goggled at him with a slightly open mouth. "You're right. I should never leave Camelot again." The warlock lowered himself into a chair. "Do you know of any spells that can help me find Sigan?"

Gaius glared. "And then what, Merlin?" he demanded. "You'll attack one of the most powerful spellbinders in history—a spellbinder who is now a disembodied spirit who could, in fact, possess you—and see what happens?"

"It worked with Nimueh," he muttered.

Gaius smacked him on the back of the head. "We both know that much of your victory over Nimueh was luck, and from your descriptions, she wasn't exactly sane at the time of your battle. I obviously cannot say for certain, but from Arthur's descriptions, it doesn't sound as though Sigan is mad. Furious, yes, but not deranged. Not to mention that Nimueh, for all her power and skill, was still a living human being. Sigan is not. Killing his host might cause a setback in his plans, but what's to stop him from taking over his killer?" The physician shuddered. "And quite frankly, Merlin, the thought of Cornelius Sigan with all your power at his disposal is the stuff of nightmares."

Merlin nodded. He frightened himself sometimes, despite knowing that he tried so hard to use his magic for good. Sigan, though…. "I'll ask Kilgharrah if he knows how to prevent possession."

"Good," said Gaius.

"Do you know what Sigan was trying to do when he attacked Arthur?" Merlin asked. He frowned. "Actually, could you tell me a little bit more about that fight? Because I'm not quite certain how Arthur could have gotten the better of such a powerful spellbinder."

The physician explained. By the time he was finished, a worried frown had spread across Merlin's face. "You're right. That doesn't add up."

"It was actually the Lady Morgana who noticed this first."

Merlin grinned. "She would."

"Speaking of Morgana, she thinks that this is the meaning of one of her reoccurring dreams. For months now, she's been seeing two birds locked in battle, one as black as night and one brightly colored."

Merlin's eyes went wide. "I saw that vision too," he exclaimed. "Remember when I accidentally looked into the Crystal of Neahtid? I didn't get a very good look at either of them, but the black bird could definitely have been a raven." He frowned slightly. "Of course, I don't know what the other bird might be…."

Gaius looked at him.

"What?"

The physician's eyebrow quirked. He seemed torn between exasperation and amusement, a combination with which Merlin was very familiar. "Think about it, Merlin."

"Oh!" The warlock flushed.

Gaius smirked at him.

"I don't suppose Morgana saw which of us wins?"

"No, she didn't."

Merlin grimaced. "That's unfortunate. Um, what was that artifact that Sigan was looking for again?"

"The Raven's Key," Gaius answered promptly. "It transforms the statuary of Camelot into the wielder's personal army, nearly indestructible by mortal means, unable to tire and inhumanly strong."

"And how big is this army, exactly?"

"I'm not quite certain, honestly. Nobody knows how many gargoyles and other statues there are on the castle, and it's possible that the key's influence extends into the city proper. Hundreds, certainly. Perhaps over a thousand."

Merlin was suddenly very, very glad that he'd thought to empty the vaults. If Sigan had had an army of hundreds of powerful stone golems, there might not have been a Camelot for him to come back to.

"I'll really have to ask Kilgharrah if he knows anything," Merlin reiterated. How to avoid possession, how to guarantee that Sigan's spirit passed, how to possibly defeat an army of living stone, what sorts of protections he had on his hoard…. He should write a list. "Is there anything you want me to ask?"

"Many things. I'll need to write you a list. But most importantly, warn him to be careful. Uther will send out parties of knights to hunt him down now that he knows he's escaped. Dragonbinder might be broken, but all it takes to kill anyone is a single well-placed blow, and some of the smarter fighters might try to poison him."

"Okay. Am I supposed to help you research or will Arthur die unless I polish his boots?"

"He's been assigned another substitute manservant for now. You're needed for research."

"I bet he's thrilled," the warlock commented, a grin stretching his lips.

"I've actually been studying Cornelius Sigan since we first unearthed his tomb," Gaius stated, returning the subject to more serious matters.

"What did you find out?" Merlin asked, taking his guardian's hint.

"I've found that someone has either erased or hidden much of the information about him."

"You're joking."

"Would that I was." Gaius sighed. He looked tired. "Many of the tales I found were recorded decades after Sigan's death and were really more records of legends and rumors than facts. There is a list of his accomplishments dating from Bruta's reign, but we know nothing of what he was like as a man or why he and his king fell out."

Merlin's brow crinkled. "I thought that Bruta discovered that Sigan was plotting against him?"

"That is what the stories say," Gaius acknowledged, "but bedtime stories and fables about the futility of plotting against the king are hardly unbiased sources. You have to remember, Merlin, that winners write history. Losers often die before they can record their side of the story, and often their records are destroyed to make room for the narrative of triumph. Look at Camelot's records of the Purge if you don't believe me. Uther's forces burned as many books as spellbinders, and there are things of which people are forbidden to speak on pain of death."

Merlin almost asked what those things might be, then he thought better of it. "So you think that Bruta erased what really happened to make himself look better?"

"That, or some of Sigan's disciples destroyed it."

"What disciples?"

Gaius grimaced. "He must have had at least a few followers. Why else would a traitor to the crown be buried in such a spectacular tomb? It was full of treasure, Merlin, treasure that I suspect was left to attract potential hosts like Cedric."

"But wouldn't it have been easier if his disciples just hosted him themselves?"

"There's a difference between wanting someone to return and giving up your free will, body, and perhaps even life to facilitate that return."

"Good point," the warlock admitted, embarrassed.

"Of course," the physician grumbled, "this doesn't explain why those same disciples didn't just drag some random peasant down to the tomb and use him as a host." He scowled, glaring in frustration at the pile of books in front of him. "There's so much about this story that simply makes no sense, and so much to discover. I very much hope that Kilgharrah was in Camelot at the time and can untangle at least part of the conundrum."

Merlin's eyes widened slightly. He knew, of course, that the dragon was over a thousand years old, but it was far too easy to forget the implication of his friend's age. Perhaps he hadn't been born when the Trojans reached these shores, but he'd been alive for centuries when Julius Caesar landed in the east. He'd seen kingdoms rise and fall, the Romans come and go, wars break out and wane. Bruta, Boudicca, Hadrian, Macsen Wledig…. Kilgharrah had predated and outlasted them all. Merlin couldn't imagine living that long.

Gaius continued, "But what little information I have is disturbing. Sigan was probably the most powerful spellbinder of his day. He built Camelot. The protections he wove into the walls lasted almost a century, though I'll admit part of that was due to careful maintenance. He created a half-dozen artifacts of power and could mirror life and death, and the legends about him being able to control the tide are apparently true. There were those who whispered that his coming must surely be an ill omen, for a mage that powerful must surely be Emrys, who would come at the time of smoke and darkness."

"Glad that rumor's not true," Merlin muttered.

"As am I," his mentor agreed. "But enough of this, at least for a few minutes. How did the summit go?"

"It was eventful," the younger man admitted. "I told you about Morgause, right?"

"As did Morgana and Gwen, yes."

"She stopped causing trouble after the first day, but I'm fairly certain she's still plotting something. Most people are either furiously offended that a Pendragon is the Once and Future King or vindictively gleeful that Uther Pendragon's son is going to undo all his work. I think that the druids told the non-druids about the prophecies when they spread the word about this summit, because I honestly don't know how else everyone else would know so much. I mean, these prophecies aren't common knowledge, right?"

"They are among the druids and more educated spellbinders, but most of the rest of the world either never heard of them or has forgotten."

"But overall, I think that it went rather well. There's lots of people who are interested in demonstrating that magic can be a force for good, others are interested in training with my army, a few folk have offered safehouses, we had a lot of really good stories to help discredit the Purge, and some of them are staying behind on the Isle. Guess who they chose as the new Lord of the Isle?"

"I'm sorry, Merlin," Gaius said faintly, "but did you just tell me that you have your own army?"

The warlock flushed. "Well, it's actually Alator of the Catha's company of war wizards, but I call it mine because it's the army of my people and also because Alator sort of swore allegiance to me." Loudly and publically. While kneeling. It had been rather embarrassing, honestly, because Merlin most certainly wasn't lord of anything and would greatly appreciate it if people would stop treating him like he was.

"But this Alator is still the commander, right?"

"Of course."

"That's a relief," the older man sighed. "What else were you saying?"

"I said that some of the people are re-founding the city on the Isle of the Blessed, and they asked my parents to be its lord and lady because the original rulers were dragonlords like Father."

Gaius smiled. "That's wonderful, Merlin. Are they going to do it?"

"Yes. They have to get their things from Ealdor, of course, but, well, Mother never really felt at home there. Everyone started treating her better after Father showed up, but most of the villagers were cold to her for years." Just thinking about it made him grimace. "And anyways, this is her—their, I suppose—chance to do something truly good for the world. Have you ever heard of someone being able to see through glamors?"

"What?" Gaius asked, thrown by the unexpected change of topic.

"Mother can see through glamors," Merlin explained. "She's been seeing my real eyes on and off for years, but she always thought that that was just in her head. Then she could see through my Emrys disguise, so I made a few other illusions and she could see through them, too."

Gaius's forehead crinkled, his eyebrows bunching together. "I've never heard of such a thing. Are you sure there wasn't something wrong with your spells?"

"Positive," Merlin said. "I even asked some of the other spellbinders to cast glamors, and Mother could see through those as well."

"How strange," Gaius muttered. "Have you asked Kilgharrah?"

"Of course, but he's never heard of anything like it either."

Both eyebrows shot up at that. "He hasn't?"

"He hasn't," the younger man confirmed. "Mother thinks that her ability might have something to do with her birth parents, so I promised I'd look up the records of their trial."

"An excellent idea, but first we'll need to get back to researching Sigan." Gaius looked mournfully at the pile of books and records he had yet to open.

"I've got a few hours before my first lesson with Morgana," Merlin said, reaching for the first book.

"Actually, Morgana mentioned that she wanted to delay a week before beginning. With Sigan on the loose and the castle on such high alert, now is an especially dangerous time to practice magic."

"Good point," the warlock acknowledged, glancing at the books with new trepidation.

Sighing heavily, uncle and nephew went to work.

Arthur Pendragon was in a foul mood.

To be fair, so was most of the rest of the castle, not to mention quite a few townspeople and strangers passing through. The news about Sigan, the vault, and the giant bloody dragon had spread with alarming speed. They were still looking for a captain of the guard (Lancelot would have been wonderful, both because he was competent and honorable and because seeing him with Guinevere might knock some sense into Arthur), a tournament had been cancelled, Emrys hadn't shown up in the eastern barracks, Uther was angrier than he'd ever seen him, that blasted dragon and the treasures and Cornelius Sigan were gods knew where, almost a dozen people had been arrested (and had almost immediately escaped, for which Arthur was quietly grateful, because he very much doubted that they could have proved their innocence to his father now that the king was in such a mood), Merlin's insomnia was acting up, and now a man in Odin's employ had just tried to assassinate him, and he had to talk his father out of going to war.

This was one of those days when Arthur greatly envied Merlin his straightforward, uncomplicated life.

"Father," he said, trying hard to sound patient and reasonable, "we have no proof that Odin was behind this."

The king sneered. "Then who did?"

Arthur grimaced. He knew damn well that it was, in fact, King Odin who had sent the assassin. Everyone knew it. "I don't know," he lied, "but if Camelot goes to war, other kingdoms could accuse us of breaking the peace for spurious reasons. They would cease to trust us, which would cause diplomatic headaches for years to come."

"We have proof."

"You mean the assassin's coins? Father, he could have gotten those in a million other places. They're suspicious, yes, but the other kings won't view it as conclusive."

"He speaks the truth, sire," Gaius said cautiously. The physician had just finished cleaning the wound on Arthur's side. Merlin handed him a fistful of clean white bandages. "Any victory that Camelot might win would have a decidedly Pyrrhic feel."

"And what would you have me do?" Uther snarled. "Should I ignore the fact that Odin sent a man to murder my only son and heir, who was only saved by the lucky intervention of a pair of servants?"

"Close the border, perhaps?" Arthur suggested.

Merlin chuckled softly. Three pairs of eyes turned to glare at him. "Is there something you'd like to say, boy?" Uther ground out.

The manservant blanched. "Sort of. I was just thinking that maybe you should have the knights chase the dragon into King Odin's lands. I mean, think of the look on his face." He grinned.

The king's lips twitched into something suspiciously like a smile. "I ought to have made you the court jester," he muttered, but there was no heat in his voice. He returned his attention to Arthur. "I will decide what to do about Odin in the morning. In the meantime, Arthur, what news have you concerning our… other problems?"

The prince winced. "Three more people claim to have spotted the dragon—people other than the assassin, that is—but Sir Leon doesn't think that they're credible witnesses. I agree with him, they were completely hysterical. The guards you sent to Sweetspring have returned. They searched the village top to bottom, but they found no trace of the missing artifacts. We're still looking for a new head of the guard. Lastly, we've heard nothing from Cornelius Sigan. I truly believe that he's gone back to whatever afterlife he came from."

But Uther was shaking his head. "Until we receive definitive proof one way or the other, we have to assume that Sigan's spirit is still at large. Sorcerers are a canny, cunning breed. He could be biding his time until we lower our guard, or perhaps he too seeks out the missing artifacts, specifically the Raven's Key."

He had a point, Arthur had to admit. "I will make certain that the guards know to keep searching. Gaius, will this injury affect my ability to defend Camelot?"

"Not long," the physician assured him. "It looks worse than it actually is. You're a very lucky man, sire."

Just that morning, a man had come in claiming that he'd seen strange tracks in the forest, and perhaps they belonged to the dragon. Since they were barely an hour's ride away, Arthur had agreed to go with him to inspect the trail. The prince hadn't brought any knights or even Merlin, reasoning that he was just going to look at the tracks rather than actually attack the dragon. He had been in the stables when Merlin and Guinevere came bursting into the room, babbling about how his guide was really an assassin and was trying to lure him away to kill him. Arthur hadn't had a chance to respond before the man was on him with his knife bare. The servants had tackled him then, their combined weight knocking him off the prince. The fight had been short and brutal, ending when Arthur's horse kicked the man's head in. And when it was over, Arthur had come far too close to taking Guinevere into his arms and kissing her.

Somehow, the prince had realized on his way to the physician's chambers, somehow he'd gone and fallen in love with her. This was not good. Guinevere was clever and gentle, and he greatly valued the friendship they'd developed this last year, but if his father ever found out that the crown prince had come to love a servant girl…. Heads would roll, Arthur feared.

"I know I'm lucky, Gaius," he sighed. "I just wish that that luck extended to Camelot."

The physician's smile was sad. "So do the rest of us."

Alternate chapter title: "In Which There is Much Talking and Not Much Action"

It was syed's idea to have Balinor and Hunith stay on the Isle due to the dragonlord thing. Thanks, syed! :)

I don't really like this chapter, but, well, between the traveling and the guests and my sister's wedding last week, I'm mildly amazed that I actually managed to finish anything.

Merlin's reference to the Trojans comes from Geoffrey of Monmouth. The historical figures he thinks about are all real (except Sigan, of course).

Next update: August 12. Probably Morgana's magic lesson and/or a conversation between Arthur and Emrys.

-Antares